You Ready?
by MsMarilynAdams
Summary: Cassandra wasn't joking around when she had given Dredd her badge after their night at Peach Trees. She was done with being a Judge. She didn't know what she was going to do but she'd figure it out. Though, it'll be kind of hard with Joseph Dredd himself constantly breathing down her neck. /New Story, rocky start. DreddxAnderson. Reeaalllyyy slow burn. M for violence/


DREDD CHAPTER 1 "You Ready?"

/AN: Sorry it's so short. I was having a hard time focusing. I've been binge watching everything Punisher and now Frank Castle is running around my head, screaming Karen's name and killing off every evil character I've ever loved. More will come. Slowly, but it will come. Slow burn of DreddxAnderson /

A slightly shaking hand ran through short blonde tresses. Kassandra looked up at the ceiling of her small apartment. The paint was a soft lavender that she had picked out right after she had been assigned the apartment. She obviously had to get permission before she had it done but that wasn't too hard. Now, laying in this room, the walls reminded her of her childhood room. The only thing missing where the sheer rose colored curtains and the white vanity that her father had built her.

The noise of the mega city came through her open window, the wind making her curtains dance slightly in the dark. After Peach Trees, after giving Dredd her badge and walking away, she had immediately come home and stripped out of her clothes, putting her uniform in the decontamination chamber as she showered, the hot water burning the still tender wound on her side. She ignored it and let the heat and steam scorch away the remnants of the day. She has slipped into a simple tank top and sleeping shorts afterwards, the lack of clothing welcome compared to the heavy leather she had to wear in the summer heat.

Tilting her head, she pushed the blankets back with a sigh. She had slept a little but not nearly enough. Still exhausted but unable to fall back to sleep, the small blonde sluggishly got up out of her bed and moved to the window and leaned against it. Closing her eyes, she gripped the ledge of the window and inhaled deeply. Cassandra focused on the warmth of the metal beneath her palms and the hot, metallic smell of the Mega City. She knew that she would have to begin looking for another job tomorrow. Even if she had wanted to stay on the force, she had failed the assessment that moment that she had lost her weapon.

Still staring out the window, letting the colors of the city blur between her partially closed eyelids, she jumped at the single, loud knock at her door. Her eyes shot to the digital clock on her nightstand. Who the fuck was visiting at 1:30 in the morning? Her jaw tensed and her body went immediately into defense mode as she made her way to the door. She glanced through the peephole and her heart did a little jump. She swallowed and backed up, unlocking the heavy door and opening it.

Before her, still dressed in his bloody and dirty uniform, was Dredd. Cassandra swallowed again and suddenly became aware that maybe she was swallowing too much? She idly wondered if Dredd could sense how nervous he made her. For a few moments, they stood there in utter silence, Cassandra seeing only her reflection in the visor of Dredd's helmet. Shaking herself a little, she managed to gather up enough sense to speak.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted out. Dredd tipped his head slightly and made a small huffing sound.

"Is that how you greet all your guests?" He growled out in his usual gravely tone. Without invitation, he placed his gloved hand on the door and pushed it open enough to give him space to walk in. Dumbfounded, Cassandra stepped aside, allowing her former superior into her home. Even if she was no longer a judge, she still had to respect him. Hell, after the night they had had, he deserved her respect more than anyone else she knew. So, instead of barking at him to get out of her apartment, she simply closed the door softly and leaned against it, her hands wedged between her back and the steel of it.

Her mind whirled as she tried to figure out why he would be here. Dredd simply stopped in the middle of her living room, his back to her as he took in the area. The sofa was a flanked with small end tables piled neatly with books, most of them old from what he could see. The coffee table held more book and a large empty mug with a tea bag still residing in it. The walls were littered with pictures of what he knew to be her parents and her when she was a child and posters, most fade and torn, of old cinema pictures from before the world had went to hell.

As he took in the slightly cluttered apartment, Cassandra couldn't help but think of how intimidating he was. With his height and broad shoulders, he loomed over everything, an aura of cold rage and threat of pain emanating from him. She couldn't understand what perps were thinking when they would mouth off to him. She had no idea what hope they thought they had of escaping him. Then again, she knew they couldn't see what she saw when she looked at him. He was a completely different kind of animal in her psychic eye. Right now, however, she didn't see anything, her exhaustion made looking into him more of a chore than an easy effort.

Dredd continued to look for a moment, taking a few steps around the small coffee table as he reached up, his gloved hands taking hold and pushing up and off his helmet. Messy, short brown hair stuck up all over and when he turned to look at her, helmet tucked under his arm, her heart thumped so hard that it actually hurt. The light green eyes, long lashes and generally handsome features were not what the Rookie had been expecting to see. Rumors around the academy was that Dredd never removed his helmet, that he was a pretty ugly chud beneath all the bulletproof protection.

She was staring unknowingly. Dredd's frown deepened and he spoke, his voice rough.

"Something wrong, Anderson?" He growled out and Cassandra jumped slightly and shook her head.

"No, sir. I just didn't think I would ever see you without your helmet."

Dredd gave a grunt in response, his hazel eyes taking in her sleep attire, or lack thereof, and he motioned for her to sit down.

"This isn't a social call, Anderson. Sit," he ordered, apparently not caring that she was no longer a Judge and he was no longer her boss. But she did it anyway. When Judge Dredd ordered you to do something, you did it. Simple as that. Moving to the opposite end of the sofa, she sat, tucking her bare legs beneath her. She suddenly felt exposed, way too vulnerable. Dredd sat as well, not seeming to notice his discomfort, helmet now resting beside him, his body turned towards her.

"How's the wound?" He asked, breaking the heavy silence that had loomed awkwardly between them. On reflex, the blonde's hand went to her side, the wound from the bullet warm and still sensitive. She hadn't really messed with it since he had stitched it up for her. She gave a shrug and met his gaze.

"It's as good as it can be," she replied before moving to adjust herself on the sofa. "Why are you here, Sir? I'm not a Judge anymore," She blankly stated, unable and unwanting to make small talk. Seeing him without his helmet was difficult, it almost hurt to look at him. She would have preferred he be ugly. Dredd snorted again, clearly amused with the woman speaking to him so frankly.

"That's just it. I want you back on the force, Anderson."


End file.
